


Sibling Rivalry

by iamfitzwilliamdarcy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Horace Slughorn - Freeform, Minerva McGonagall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 00:57:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfitzwilliamdarcy/pseuds/iamfitzwilliamdarcy
Summary: The Slytherin Gryffindor Quidditch Match of Fall 1976 turns interesting when the Slytherin Seeker seems to have it in for the Gryffindor Captain.After the match ends, a fistfight breaks out, and Sirius learns that no good deed goes unpunished and there are still some things he can run from.





	Sibling Rivalry

Slytherin didn’t play Gryffindor in Quidditch the Fall of 1976 until the beginning of November. Tensions were already high as it was their first meeting since Gryffindor had knocked Slytherin out of cup contentions the prior season. Gryffindor, having started the season off on a low note, lost to Hufflepuff in the first game of the season but had made a bit of a come back when they beat Ravenclaw the week before. Slytherin, for their part, remained undefeated, crushing Hufflepuff and overcoming Ravenclaw twice. The game was expected to be exciting, and by the time students, trash talking and shouting cheers, poured into the stands, several students had already been sent to the hospital wing as a result of escalating fights. 

What no one anticipated was the heightened tension and harbored grudge the Slytherin seeker had for the Gryffindor captain.  That James Potter had earned the ire of the entire Slytherin team was unexceptional. Exceptionally talented, handsome, charming, and well-aware of it, James Potter has led the Gryffindor team to victory so often that frequently the other Houses just wanted to see him lose. It was galling to the Slytherins in particular, who considered him egotistical and favored among professors and the referees. 

What he had not was the way Regulus Black, abandoning any pretense of searching for the Snitch, flew after the Chaser, flying into him, blocking him every which way he turned, and nearly knocking him off his broom more than once. It was clear even to the spectators that James Potter was growing frustrated. He hadn’t scored even once though his game average 20; this was good for Regulus as it was the only thing keeping his own captain from yelling at him to look for the snitch himself. 

Twice, James flew over to Madam Hooch, his face red, gesticulating wildly. Both times she sent him back, firmly, and once with a penalty whistle at his back for swearing so badly. Multiple times, he shoved, elbowed (thankfully without Madam Hooch seeing) and shouted back at Regulus. Finally, fed up, when Regulus blocked his path once more, coming dangerously close to a penalty, James took both hands off his broom and shoved. Regulus went cartwheeling just as the whistle blew, signifying the Gryffindor Seeker, actually doing her job, had caught the Snitch and ended the game. 

James rushed back to the ground, fuming, but Regulus was still on his heels and flew directly at him.

“What’s your problem?” James shouted, jumping out of his way, whipping his wand out.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle in the distance, but the rest of the teams were not yet close enough to reach them when Regulus hopped off his broom and shouted a curse. James didn’t parry in time, and it hit him in the face, causing him to stumble backwards.  But James was two years older, and, for 17, a skilled duelist and he struck back with a silent fury. Several spells later, he had Regulus’ wand in his own hand.

Regulus, his face flushed red, twisting into an ugly grimace of rage, rushed him.  He hit James, full on around the torso. He hit just hard enough, and James was just startled enough, that, despite being a good foot shorter and a significant amount scrawnier,  he managed to tackle James to the ground. 

The stadium was, at this point, descending into chaos. Sirius Black was, himself, rushing to the pitch, far faster than Professor McGonagall, who trailed him by virtue of having to order her students to stay put, charging her prefects and Head Girl to help maintain order, and Slughorn, who’s bulk did lend itself to such exertion. 

James, with a split lip and bruised cheek, had managed to catch Regulus’ wrists by that time. He was not, as it were, exactly fighting back, which further fueled Regulus’ anger. He was yelling, almost incoherently at James, wriggling around to get his hands free, even as his knees dug into James’ ribs. 

He got one hand free and even as he swung, Sirius skidded into them, trapping his wrist again, just as James uses his free hand to mash into Regulus’ face. Regulus fell back a little, and James got a leg free. He kicked out towards Regulus, maybe a little harder than the kid really deserved, and caught him in the stomach. 

It wasn’t enough to knock the wind out of him, but Regulus did suck in sharply, and James scrambled away and up to his feet again. 

He met Sirius’ eye over Regulus’ head. “What the--?” He started, as Sirius hauled Regulus up and away from James.

Regulus, however, did not take so kindly to this. He twisted around, and, realizing it was Sirius who was dragging him off, stilled completely. Next moment, he said, voice shaking slightly, “Let go of me.”

When Sirius neither let go, nor acknowledged him, he repeated, “Let go of me. Let go of me!  _ Let go of me!”  _ his voice rising until he was shouting.

He stamped his foot on Sirius’ own, digging his heel into Sirius’ nicely polished shoes. Sirius hissed and pushed him off. “You little cretin,” he snapped. “What the hell is  _ wrong  _ with you?” 

But Regulus, it seemed, had quite lost his mind. Still wandless, with no further skill in fist fighting, he, regardless, flung himself at his brother. Sirius, a sight more prepared than James and far more willing than James to Give It to Regulus, sidestepped easily, grabbed his arm, twisted it behind him and got him back to the ground. Digging his knee into his back to keep him down, Sirius hissed every name he could think of in Regulus’ ear.

He didn’t get far on what was, undoubtedly, a very long and creative list, before Professor McGonagall’s voice interrupted sharply, “Mr. Black, up if you please.” 

Sirius dug his knee in a little deeper, for good measure, before standing up and backing away a few paces. James came to his side immediately, hand touching his elbow lightly because Sirius was still throwing murderous looks at Regulus, and who knew what might start Regulus off again. 

Regulus, for his part, continued to lay face down in the grass. After a long moment, he turned over and propped himself up on his arms, glaring up at Sirius and James. He didn’t look too worse for wear, lucky, James thought, that their Heads of House had interrupted before Sirius had really laid into him. He had a few cuts along his face, and he kept touching his nose like it was tender, but it wasn’t bleeding and certainly not broken. Dirt stuck to his cheeks, and some loose grass clung to his disheveled hair. 

Slughorn bustled over to him, and after a moment of quiet consultation, Regulus reluctantly allowed his professor to help him to his feet. 

Professor McGongall eyed them all, assessing, and then said, nostrils flaring, “Potter, back to your common room. You two,” she leveled her stony gaze at Sirius and Regulus. “My office. Now.”

“Mine’s closer, Minerva,” Slughorn put in as Sirius’ face turned slack with surprise. 

“Me?” he yelped, outraged. “Professor, I didn’t do anything!”

“He was just helping me, Professor,” James added earnestly. 

She narrowed her eyes at them. “My decision is final.”

“Professor,” James started again, and if Sirius hadn’t been fuming, he might have noticed there was a worried edge to James’ voice. 

“If I have to ask again, Potter, I will put you in detention.”

“Bad luck, mate,” James said, giving Sirius’ arm a pat before heading to the dressing rooms. 

When he was on his way, McGonagall waved them ahead of her, and they marched down to Slughorn’s office, Slughorn trailing behind them. 

  
“Such indecent behavior!” she snapped at them as they filed in. “Making fools of yourselves. Quite one thing to do it at home, but to brawl like that in public, in front of the whole school in the middle of a Quidditch match! I have never seen such a spectacle!”

She waited for them to get settled, and Slughorn conjured her a chair behind his desk so they could share the barrier. She took the lead, surveying both boys sternly. Sirius was slouched, as far away as possible from Regulus, almost to the point of falling out of his chair, his arms crossed over his chest, expression bored, eyes glaring right back at her. Regulus sat properly, straight-backed, his hands folded nicely in his lap, but his head was bent downwards and he refused to look at anyone. 

“So why,” she started, “are we here?” 

“No good deed goes unpunished?” Sirius suggested. 

“Mr. Black,” she snapped. “Please try to take this seriously.”

“Take  _ what  _ seriously,” he demanded. “Reg went crazy. That’s not my problem.”

“Attacked your best friend and yourself,” McGonagall confirmed. She slid a glance at Regulus, who had not moved, and then quickly back to Sirius.

“Are you implying,” Sirius said, straightening up. “That I provoked him? Because I didn’t do anything!”

“Now, now,” Slughorn said, making soothing gestures. “I’m sure we can just smooth this all over. Write your mother, hmm? Let you sort it out privately?”

Sirius snorted. “Don’t bother, I don’t have a mother.”

Before either professor could react, Regulus moved for the first time. He leapt to his feet, one had balling into a tight fist at his side, the other pointing sharply towards SIrius. “Don’t you talk about her,” he said furiously. “Don’t you--not after what you did to her!”

“Regulus, dear boy, calm down,” Slughorn said, alarmed. Nobody paid him any mind.

“Me?” Sirius snapped back, straightening up, rigid. “Me!?”

“You!” Regulus shouted, staving off any of Sirius’ protest. “You broke her heart!”

Sirius was on his feet now. “I have it on good authority she doesn’t have one!”

Regulus shoved Sirius, and it was only a spell from McGonagall separating them that prevented another brawl. 

“That is enough,” she said, her voice quiet and furious. 

Appropriately abashed, Regulus sat back down, prim, back still straight. After a moment, breathing just a tad harder than usual, Sirius threw himself into his chair.

“Well now,” Slughorn said. “Such excitement! Minerva, it just seems to me a brotherly tiff. Boys will be boys, after all. Perhaps we should let them settle it on their own. A private family matter.”

“Your student has attacked, apparently unprovoked and extremely out of character, two of my own, Horace,” McGonagall said flatly. “And made his private business public when he did so in front of the entire school.”

Horace cleared his throat. “Yes, well.”

“Yes, Professor,” Sirius added, earnestness tainted with annoyance. “I was attacked so why am I here?  Do you want me to file a victim report or something or can I go?”

McGonagall ignored her actual charge. “Mr. Black,” she directed to Regulus. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Regulus’ mouth tightened but he didn’t say anything. This is far more the boy both she and Slughorn know—quiet, passive. A far cry from his elder brother. A far cry from a boy who had, in a fit of rage, jumped James Potter on the Quidditch pitch. 

“That’s just him, Professor,” Sirius said loftily. He’d fallen back into a slouch, thrown one leg over the arm of the chair. “Does something wrong, won’t talk, makes everyone feel bad for him so he wriggle his way out of trouble.”

“Sit properly,” McGonagall snapped. “And I don’t recall asking you to be your brother’s voice for him.”

“I am not his voice,” Sirius said, furiously. He shifted hastily to a proper seated position and added, “I’m not his anything!”

“So I heard,” she said, cooly. 

Sirius seemed to be missing the way Regulus’ lips pressed together and his chin dimpled and lined.

“Do you mean to tell me,” she continued, “that you are no longer living at home?”  

“I’m not living at my parents’ house, yeah,” Sirius said, casual. “Left this summer.”

McGonagall’s nostrils flared. “You are underage.”

“Barely,” Sirius snapped. “And it’s really none of your business where I live during the summer.”

“It is when it concerns my  _ underage  _ student with the better part of two years of school left--” 

“Well now you know,” Sirius interrupted. “Send any further inquiries to the Potters.” 

His face flushed a little, like he might have been embarrassed about intruding on their hospitality or needing to rely on his best friend, but he remained cool and casual, schooling his features to reflect his disinterest.

McGonagall sat back in her chair and tried to exchange a look with Slughorn. Horace was watching them alertly, but with air of discomfort. For all his nosing into his students’ personal lives, it was clear he thought they were intruding in this scenario. Perhaps they were. Minerva certainly made it a point to allow familial business to stay familial...but when it had spilled over into her school--

“If you’re going to punish us, can we get on with it?” Sirius said impatiently, breaking into her thoughts. 

McGonagall raised her eyebrows at his rudeness, and he offered a muttered apology. She sighed, feeling as if they had gotten nowhere. Of course she couldn’t punish Sirius--he was right when he had said he’d done nothing and McGonagall strove to fair and judicious handling of all her students.

“You may go, Black,” she said wearily. “Horace, I’ll leave your student to you.”

Slughorn looked a little put out, as though he’d wanted McGonagall to serve up punishments while he continued to be the indulgent mentor.

“You don’t have to write my mother, Professor,” Regulus said softly. He looked up, but swiftly returned his gaze to where his hands sat folded. “It would just upset her.”

He missed Sirius’ eyeroll, and Sirius missed the way his shoulders hunched, very un-Black-like. 

“Ah, yes, well,” Slughorn blustered. “I’ sure you’re quite right, Mr. Black, I’m sure you know what you did was wrong, but as this is a first-time offense, I think we can be settled at a detention. If that’s all--?” 

Sirius snorted derisively, but no other objections were raised, and the boys were dismissed, while their Heads remained behind.

James was waiting for them just outside the office, changed back into his casual robes, his hair damp from the post-game shower. He managed a smile, but his face was worried. 

Sirius glowered, not at James in particular, but just in general. “Let’s go,” he said, walking right past James. 

“Okay,” James said, falling into step. “Only--,”

“Sirius!” Regulus interrupted, following after them, looking earnest and anxious.

Sirius didn’t pause, just turned mid-step, hand jutting out to jab a finger in Regulus’ direction. “You stay away from me,” he snapped. “And keep any of that--that  _ business _ away from me too. None of you are anything me to now.”

Regulus stood still for a moment, and then his face slipped into a cool, detached look, a Black staple he never quite managed to perfect. “Fine,” he said, clipped. He turned on his heel and marched back towards the Slytherin Common Rooms.

James didn’t say anything until they were back in their own Dormitory, only Remus and Peter around. “So,” he said. “What was that all about?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sirius said. 

“Padfoot,” James tried again, but Sirius, coming to a stop, interrupted.

“I said,” he snapped, his voice slipping to the aristocratic accent of his family, the one he had mostly eliminated except when he was furious. “I don’t want to talk about it _ , James _ . It’s  _ my  _ business, not yours.”  

“Fair,” James said, his own temper rising. “Only  _ your  _ business is showing up on  _ my  _ doorstep at two in the morning with no warning and  _ your  _ business led  _ your  _ little brother to jump  _ me,  _ so I think I have a bit of a right--,”

“Shut it, James, you’re such a fucking  _ martyr  _ sometimes--,”

“Me!” James yelped. “What about  _ you _ !” 

Remus stood suddenly. The others weren’t used to James and Sirius fighting, and Peter was still on his bed, mouth wide open. Remus inched towards James, without him noticing.

“Going around acting like you’re the only one who’s ever had a shit family,” James continued, “and like that gives you a right to--,”

“James,” Remus said softly, suddenly right there, hand on James’ shoulder. 

Sirius was stiff, his accent back again when he spoke next, “I’m sorry you find me such a difficult friend to endure,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I won’t burden you anymore.”

“Sirius,” James said, sounding far more exasperated, “That’s not what I meant.”

But Sirius was already on his way out the door. He could hear James saying to Remus, “I’m not wrong, am I?” and Remus murmuring something back before the door slammed shut behind him.

He didn’t come back for a long time. 

James fell asleep before Sirius returned, but he woke up not long after. The moon was high in the sky, filtering through the window where Sirius sat, instead of climbing into his bed. James roused himself. Still slow with sleep, he joined Sirius at the window.

“You’re not difficult,” he told him. 

Sirius laughed a little. It sounded bitter and self-depreciating.  He continued to stare out the window, in one of those moods that scared James, even though they never talked about it. 

James nudged him a little with his elbow, “You don’t have to talk about it, mate, and I shouldn’t have made you try. But you know where you to find me.”

Sirius finally turned to him, a ghost of a smile flitting on his lips, the moon casting just enough light to shade his face in shadows, dark eyes gleaming. “Going soft on me, Prongs,” he said.

“Hey, mate,” James said, laughing, elbowing him again, harder this time so Sirius laughed too and rubbed at his own side. “You’re family.” 


End file.
